


potion of despair

by tal_5



Series: harry potter/hogwarts au [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crushes, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Romance, Secret Crush, Slow Romance, Teen Crush, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_5/pseuds/tal_5
Summary: As the others ponder on what action they should take regarding this new and foreboding piece of the puzzle, Remus thinks about his bathwater.Bath times were always dreaded by his parents because, though many thought (and continue to think) that Remus’s capabilities to wreak havoc were limited to the outdoors and other dangerous environment, he was a true monster in the bath.His stomach turns at the thought of drinking whatever this liquid is. But it also turns at the thought of someone else drinking it. The expression on Logan’s face says it all.
Relationships: Anxiety & Creativity & Dark Creativity & Deceit & Logic & Morality (Sanders Sides), Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: harry potter/hogwarts au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741744
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	potion of despair

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: death mention, vomit mention, sickness mention and slight body horror (maybe) ⏤ (tell me if I missed anything!)

It sounds easy enough as a concept; destroy whatever awaits them in the cavern.

As a group, they’ve caused more destruction than anyone attending Hogwarts, so the idea that causing more would be a difficult task is barely fathomable. But, as they feel their surroundings click back into place, one jagged piece at a time, the unfathomable suddenly becomes a lot more comprehensible.

“Is… Is that it?”

Remus points over to the centre of the hollow, where an altar-like structure stands, foreboding and silent. He watches, stance shifting cautiously, as Logan moves forward in his typically measured manner and grasps the stone edge of the stand gently. His brows knit together, propelling Virgil forward and encouraging the others to follow.

They seem to communicate with eye contact, sharing brief glances that say more than they feel safe doing so out loud. Beneath them, the ground seems to tremble against the still lake that encompasses the space around the altar. The sensation, illusive as it may be, only worsens as they step closer to the calm, dark water. It’s as if they’re stuck in another dimension in the middle of an earthquake, as the lake mocks them from the safety of its own private universe.

Frowning, Virgil peeks over Logan’s shoulder at the concave dip curving into the altar.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not sure,” Logan says. “But Dumbledore told us to destroy whatever we found here and I suppose this is what he meant.”

Remus searches the cave, determined on leaving such a dark and boring place as soon as possible, though he doesn’t move from where he’s standing. His eyes scan over each and every edge he can find, vaguely listening into the discussion going on with the others.

“Do we just… pour it out?” Virgil asks, flinching when Logan sighs in response.

The Ravenclaw leans over the altar, inhaling deeply before huffing softly. “I wouldn’t touch it.”

From a few feet in front, Roman swallows. “Why not?”

“Well,” Logan begins, “it doesn’t have any distinct scent, so there’s no way to know whether it’s harmful to touch.”

Patton, standing beside Janus, shrugs loosely. “Maybe we could drop something into it?”

So, as Remus takes a few bold steps towards the lake, the others find a rock and let it fall into the liquid. He crouches down, peering into the water at his reflection, though it’s difficult to see much of it in the dim light of the cavern. The others begin scooping the liquid with their hands, pouring it, little by little, into the lake. This continues for a while, Remus still looking around for another solution; if it was so easy as to just pour it out, Dumbledore would have done it himself.

Soon, the others begin to sigh and grunt, realising the same thing, just as Remus spots something disjointed from the ground. It’s small and very nearly flat, hiding just behind a lump of rock. He moves to pick it up, recognising it to be some sort of… shell? Perhaps?

Even so, he traces the smooth surface with his fingers, confused as to why he isn’t enjoying the velvety texture against his skin. As if just touching it is forcing him to absorb every negative memory associated with it.

“I found something,” he calls to them, successfully halting their method.

Janus takes it from him, turning it over in his hands before frowning. “It’s a shell.”

Remus rolls his eyes.

“Obviously, but isn’t it strange that this is the only thing other than that altar around here?”

Cocking his head to the side, an action Remus believes is displaying reluctant agreement, Janus holds it up for the others to see. Logan takes fast notice and hurries over, almost snatching the shell away from Janus and examining it himself. It takes a moment for him to come to a conclusion, but when he does, it’s clear; his skin drops seven shades and he presses his lips into a firm line.

“Logan, is something wrong?” Remus asks, barely refraining from wrapping the man in a violent embrace.

The cave remains silent for a few seconds longer, until Logan finally lets out a shaky sigh.

“Someone has to drink it.”

Paling, Roman swallows “All of it?”

Logan nods.

“All of it.”

They stand, hearts thundering as Logan returns to the altar and scoops the liquid up into the shell. He chews his lower lip, eyes trained on the potion as he pours it back onto the stand. It seems to disobey the laws of physics, spilling in one thin stream rather than breaking off into droplets. They watch it and wonder whether it even can. No one has the courage to look at each other. No one wants to think of another member of their group drinking some unknown, horcrux-hiding potion.

As the others ponder on what action they should take regarding this new and foreboding piece of the puzzle, Remus thinks about his bathwater.

Bath times were always dreaded by his parents because, though many thought (and continue to think) that Remus’s capabilities to wreak havoc were limited to the outdoors and other dangerous environment, he was a _true_ monster in the bath.

Soaking the floors, drenching his parents and brother, breaking his toys after playing too roughly with them, pulling the plug out and letting the water drain, and then watching happily as his parents ran him another one. But the habit that took the longest to shake was the drinking.

He’d sip his dirty bathwater like a glass of wine, claiming it to taste like a mix of apple juice and mud. Even his grandmother, who positively adored him, couldn’t stand to hear about it. Obviously, he had shaken the habit, but as he stares intently at the altar, he’s reminded of one anecdote in particular.

At the age of ten, he and Roman had been playing outside in the garden, digging holes and burying each other in the dirt. Remus liked to call this ‘practice burial’. Roman preferred ‘dirt bath’. But after such an exhausting day of getting mud on every inch of their clothes, underneath their fingernails and toenails, in the lines of their palms, their parents instantly threw them in the bathtub.

Contrary to popular belief, Remus actually loved being clean. Perhaps because, subconsciously, he saw himself as a blank canvas every time he had a bath, or maybe he just liked the smell of their shampoo. And that night was no different. He sat there, splashing the walls and his parents, giggling at their scolding and apologising as they brushed down their clothes.

That time, however, when he sipped his apple and mud flavoured drink, it only served to make him ill. All night, he’d vomited and cried and begged for his parents to stop the sickness from getting worse. The most they could do for him was rub his back and hold him until he fell asleep.

He feels the same way now. Stomach turning at the thought of drinking whatever this liquid is. But it also turns at the thought of someone else drinking it. The expression on Logan’s face says it all. His gears are turning and his face is getting ten shades lighter. Remus suppresses the urge to gulp down air.

“I’ll do it,” Logan says.

Immediately, Roman scoffs and places his hands on his hips. “And what if this weakens you in some way? What if it kills you? You’re not only our best healer, but our braincell!”

From behind him, a few quiet ‘hey’s are muttered, but other than that, the others only nod. Logan frowns and traces the shell in his hand, sucking in a breath before scooping up more of the potion.

“Patton is an excellent healer,” he replies. “And you’re all smart… in your own way.”

A few more indignant murmurs, then Remus takes a few steps forward, leaning over the basin in the altar and clicking his tongue. Almost the spitting image of his bathwater. He mutters something about the shell Logan is holding, something the Ravenclaw corrects him on, but he barely even remembers speaking. His heart drums faster and faster, until finally, he snatches the shell out of Logan’s hand and leaps out of his way.

Before anyone can stop him, he dips the shell into the potion and holds it to his lips. The others are pleading with him to put it down, to talk about this decision before he makes it.

He merely winks and replies with: “Bottoms up.”

The liquid trickles down his throat, burning the whole way, making him cough and hold his hand up as Patton takes a worried step forward. He takes a deep breath, adjusting to the new heavy feeling in his stomach. It settles for a moment, hardly even a second, before he reaches forward to fill the shell up once more.

This time, he pauses before he drinks it.

“No matter what,” he starts, unnaturally quiet, “don’t let me stop drinking this. If we don’t get rid of it all, this might be for nothing.”

He turns to his brother. “Promise me.”

Roman is shaking, eyes flicking between Remus and the shell in his hand. It’s scary, seeing him act so unlike himself; serious and uneasy.

“I, uh,” he stammers as the others watch the pair carefully. “I don’t know if I can, Remus.”

“You have to,” Remus replies. “Not even Nerdy Wolverine knows what this thing can do, so if I act like a loon, don’t trust it. It isn’t me.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and continues, “I need your word that you’ll force me to drink every last drop.”

Logan lets out an unsteady breath before nodding. “You have mine.”

“Mine too,” Roman says, hands shaking as he grips the hem of his shirt.

The others offer vague sounds of agreement and he nods, thanking them softly before offering a short huff of laughter. “Cheers, queers.”

He gulps down the next shell-full, gasping a bit afterwards as the abnormal weight in his stomach spreads up to his chest and clutches his heart with cold nostalgia. Patton tries to get close yet again, but Janus takes his hand and pulls him back.

“Yummy,” he manages, chuckling weakly before he fills the shell again.

This time, he doesn’t even think about it, he just drinks.

Images of lightless green eyes and skin far too pale for its owner flash behind his lids, and he clutches his chest, heaving a few breaths before dunking the shell into the basin again. Another drink brings back the falling sensation of watching a dementor drink in the soul of a certain Ravenclaw. And then a train rams into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs as Roman and a screaming Virgil replay in his head.

The shell falls from his fingers and clatters to the stone floor as he drops to his knees, grunting in pain as the burning intensifies and transforms into acid melting his insides. His grunts turn into short cries, hands fall on his shoulders and keep him steady.

“Remus,” Logan’s melodious voice soothes him, “here. You have to drink more, remember?”

He shakes his head and gasps, the feeling painful on the back of his throat. Roman kneels in front of him and the cloudy sound of crying echoes off the walls behind him. The edge of the shell is pressed to his lips and he cries, tears leaving harsh streaks down his cheeks as he drinks the whole thing.

Roman’s deathly pale face is closer now. Eyes open wide and staring blankly at the darkening sky, his mouth doesn’t open to comment on the beauty of the stars. No, the only sound is Virgil sobbing and screaming and burying his face in Roman’s still chest.

He cries harder, wailing into his hands as he begins to shake his head more vigorously at Logan’s attempts to pour more of the unknown potion into his mouth.

“It hurts,” he whimpers.

Logan’s voice isn’t as steady the next time he speaks. “This will help. Please, drink.”

He can trust Logan, always. So, he takes a sip.

Oil beans pooling into his lungs, so he coughs and yells, desperately trying to get it out. But it continues to choke him until he’s on the verge of vomiting, only reminding him more of the bath time drink incident. The Logan in his memories is shivering, clammy, and pale. He’s slack jawed, lifeless as misty fingers grip his arms and force him to face forwards. Remus is hurrying, he’s riding his broom as fast as he can, but he isn’t getting any closer. Logan is dying!

As Roman holds the shell up to his mouth again, he shakes his head.

“Please! Drink this and you’ll feel better!” Roman begs.

Remus backs away, only to collapse into the arms of an unknown person behind him. He sobs and wails and begs to stop the pain, but the person behind him can only hold him and rub his back.

The shell is pressed to his lips again and he drinks, hot pokers sink into his skull and cook his brain until he’s screaming in pain. “Make it stop!”

Roman is back, frozen stiff and eyes rolled up to the back of his head.

“Please, please stop! No more!”

The last of Logan’s soul is drained from his body, as he nearly snaps in half as he falls fifty feet to the ground. Remus screams again.

“No more! Don’t die! Don’t leave me!”

He feels something cold against his lips, he parts them and swallows the potion, instantly feeling his stomach melt and seep into his bones. His throat burns as he yells and cries and begs for death. Logan and Roman stare at him as he clings to the stone beneath him, unable to get a good grip, but finding the cool temperature soothing. Though, he’s dying, so nothing can sooth him right now.

“Kill me! Let me die!” he screams, scrabbling at the ground with his nails. “Just make it stop!”

Roman sobs, “Drink this and it will!”

He shakes his head and continues to weep. Logan’s hands cover his and squeeze.

“It’s just one more,” he pleads softly. “Please, just drink one more mouthful.”

And it’s Logan, so he does.

With that last gulp, however, comes the thievery of any moisture in his mouth. He wheezes and leans heavily against the person behind him, only when several pairs of hands take hold of him does he realise it’s Janus.

He feels the tickling of grass beneath his hands and the soft knuckles of a breeze caressing his face. They’ve obviously left the cave, but he can’t figure out where they are or how they got here. Helpfully, his brain supplies him with the information that it was probably magic, but other than that, the only thoughts he has are of sleep and water.

“Here, drink up.”

Tensing, he shifts backwards until he sees that it’s a bottle of water. He breathes a sigh of relief before thanking the disembodied voice, too tired to look up and see who it is, and taking a few gulps of water. Even with the water, though, his mouth still feels far too dry. And his throat is still tingling from where it was burning. Whether he’s actually injured or not remains a mystery, but he’s sure Logan will figure that out soon enough.

Breathing deeply, he takes the hand of whoever is sitting in front of him and squeezes tightly, feeling the owner squeeze back.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

The person in front of him turns out to be Roman, who has red tracks spreading down like cracks in his cheeks. He pulls Remus closer and embraces him, strong arms wound around his shoulders and chin resting on his head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of his head lightly.

“Don’t be,” Remus replies. “I asked you to do it.”

Roman says nothing, but tightens his hold, smiling at Logan as he sits down beside them.

Quietly, Logan speaks. “Are you okay? Do you feel any different?”

“Nah,” Remus says, shifting in Roman’s hold to face his favourite Ravenclaw. “Tired and sick, but the thought of rebelling against society still fills me with delight.”

Logan laughs softly, looking up to where Patton is drying his eyes and offering him a sip of water. The other refuses, telling the Ravenclaw to convince Remus to drink some more.

Remus grins. “All you have to do to convince me is kiss me.”

And, even with every terrible sensation still running rapid in his body, the flushing of Logan’s skin still makes Remus’s heart vomit up butterflies.

“Just drink up, you lunatic,” Logan mumbles, a smile barely touching his lips.

And, instead of pulling back when Roman holds him closer, Remus closes his eyes and collapses forward. Warm. _Safe_.


End file.
